And the Demons Say
by eFrances
Summary: Life hasn't been easy so far on Ludwig- from his growing number of family problems to his social anxiety, and his future isn't looking too bright. But when a new student arrives and relentlessly tries to befriend him, maybe things will start to improve? (mainly gerita, high school AU)


**AN:** **Hi guys! So this is my first ever hetalia fanfic so please go easy on me! I apologize that this first chapter doesn't have very much dialogue and is so boring, since it's mostly just memories. The next chapter will be different (and hopefully more exciting since the plot will actually start!).**

 **Thanks for reading!**

Ludwig's life began, as most do, with light. Light, bright and blinding and painful. He remembers little to nothing of his early childhood, except that it seemed to pass in a daze, his only memories of parents yelling in the middle of the night when they were sure him and his older brother were asleep. Gilbert would cover his ears and help him build a blanket fort that they could hide under, distracting Ludwig with the occasional narcissistic comment.

He couldn't have been older than five when the divorce was first brought up. He has a few snapshotted memories; his mother crying, his father screaming, Gilbert holding his hand and trying to smile and telling him that 'everything would be alright'.

Except it wasn't because _why was mommy leaving did he do something wrong and what was that bruise from on Gilbert's face and why were broken beer bottles everywhere?_ Gilbert assured him that everything was awesome, but Ludwig remembers hearing him cry himself to sleep late that night.

Ludwig remembers his first day of kindergarten. His father wasn't there to drop him off, so he hid behind his brother's legs instead. His teacher had been sweet, with long brown hair and pretty orange flowers tucked behind her ear. She had welcomed him, showed him his little cubby to put his backpack in, and distracted him so his brother could leave.

On special occasions her husband came in and would play the piano for the class. Sometimes, when this happened, Ludwig's classmates would get up and dance, but Ludwig never did. He was too shy, too scared that they might point and laugh. He loved the music though, so he would just sit there, his eyes closed, and _listen._

Elementary school passed slowly, until the last day of fifth grade when he was left with a feeling of _where did it all go?_ His father was happy one minute and would take his sons out for ice cream and to play football in the park, and the next Gilbert would quickly shoo Ludwig out his bedroom window and tell him to go to the grocery store, handing him a crumpled up five-dollar bill, and tell him not to come home for at least an hour. Except, if everything was alright, then why did he have to climb out the window?

In third grade he finally learned what his dad was. _Alcoholic, drunk._ The words buzzed around in his brain for the rest of the day _._

Ludwig never spoke in school, not to his teachers or his classmates or anyone except his Gilbert, whom he occasionally saw in the hallway. He had lived in America all his life, but both his parents were german immigrants, and Ludwig and his brother both had accents. Gilbert embraced it, somehow becoming even more confident and loud as he grew older, but Ludwig chose silence instead.

He was in sixth grade when Gilbert started high school. Gilbert seemed to be popular, and more often than not his friends, Francis and Tony, would be over, begging Gilbert to ' _please, come to the party, there's gonna be free beer and hot chicks and how could you not want to come?_ '. But Gilbert had refused, looking at his little brother pointedly when he thought Ludwig couldn't see him.

"You can go" Ludwig had whispered, one time this happened, tugging on his older brother's hand. "I'll be fine, I'm eleven years old! That's means I'm practically an adult!" Gilbert had looked torn, but, in the end, just ruffled Ludwig's hair and told him that he didn't want to go, not really.

But, apparently, he did, because he left Ludwig alone less than a week later, swaggering off with an arm around Tony and Francis. When he returned later that night his breath smelled bitter and his hand was cold and harsh when it met with Ludwig's jaw.

Ludwig vowed, late that night, that he would never drink. Not when it made his brother and his father into monsters. He fell asleep with a stinging handprint on his cheek and a strong resolution in his heart that he would be a better brother so maybe Gilbert wouldn't feel the need to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

He cleaned up the entire house in the morning, standing on his tippy-toes so he could put things back on the highest shelf, and draping his favorite furry blanket over Gilbert, who had fallen asleep on the couch. He carefully tucked in the corners around his brother's muscled frame, and placed a glass of water on the couch side table.

Making sure his brother was still asleep, he dragged a stool over to the front of the fridge, and precariously climbed on top of it. Peering over the side he saw bags of peppermints, a pair of scissors, and _there,_ a large glass bottle full of the amber liquid he had come to fear. He carefully held it, as far away from his body as he could manage, and threw it in the trash. Now it was gone, that scary drink that made his brother hate him.

Except, if he threw it out, then how did Gilbert come home a week later with his face flushed and his legs wobbly and his eyes angry?

It was like Gilbert was split in two;

One side of him was confident and familiar and _awesome._ This side was the one that took Ludwig to the park and bought him streusel and played _Settlers of Catan_ with him on their dirty dining-room table. This side had bright silver hair that was swiped back and crimson eyes that looked _alive_ and skin so pale that the sun reflected off of it like snow.

The other side was clumsy and always angry and left Ludwig scared and wondering what _had he done wrong._ It was the side that made Ludwig hide under his bed with a blanket cuddled around him. It was the side with dull, a cruel gaze, and a neck covered in weird, red splotches.

Middle school was lonely for Ludwig. Everybody else in his class was making friends, having sleepovers, or prank calling girls. And Ludwig was still too shy to speak.

In sixth grade he had been the shortest in his class, standing just under four feet, but by eighth he was close to six feet tall and even more muscled than Gilbert. It was almost impossible to hide when he towered over almost everyone, so he taught himself to scare people away with a single look. Stiffen shoulders, glare, stand taller— it had taken him a few hours in front of the mirror to master but it was worth it. No one at school talked to him now, not even his teachers if it wasn't strictly necessary.


End file.
